Cats and Angels
by Usher
Summary: Alan's first time on Thunderbird 5 should be a piece of cake...shouldn't it? Alan Whump as usual...
1. Chapter 1

_Dear John_

Alan started sniggering and erased the words on his data pad. He couldn't find it in himself to send his brother a 'Dear John' letter, even if it was his name.

_Hey bro,_

That was better, but still not great. It didn't quite convey the feeling he wanted his brother to know.

_I know you haven't heard from me in a couple of weeks, but that's because I've been studying – yes, I've actually been doing work – please don't fall off your chair, it's not that earth shattering. And I passed all my exams with flying colours – now that is earth shattering!_

_I just wanted to say…god, how do you put this in a letter or an email…I just wanted to let you know that I miss you. There –I've said it. I do miss you, you know. More than you'd believe, I guess. I miss all of you, but at least I get to see the other guys regularly enough on holidays. But you are always in your __**lab.**__ It's not an accusation – it's just the truth. The last time I got to spend time with you, neither of us were exactly 100 % after what happened. So I talked to dad – no shouting involved, and I calmly explained to him that I'm losing touch with the only other blonde Tracy…and shock on shock, he listened. So we talked some more, and I get to start my training on TB5 properly during the Summer Holidays. I hope you don't mind company, because you are getting me for two whole weeks. I tried to persuade him to send us to Maui to get our quality time, but that went down like a lead balloon… : ) Sometimes he just doesn't have a sense of humour!...or believe me when I'm serious!_

Orbiting the earth, John laughed softly as he scrolled down the data pad. "Yeah, Sprout, sometimes dad's sense of humour is a little skewed." He grinned, and looked around the station. So, Alan would be visiting him in a week's time. His grin widened slightly and he rubbed his chin, setting the pad down so he could grab a handful of star charts to pack them back into their cases. Little did Alan know, he'd already had the same discussion with his father…including the Maui option. Nothing like a little R&R in the Hawaiian Islands to bring on some brotherly bonding.

XXXxxxXXX

Scott shook his head ruefully as Alan practically bounced in the co-pilots chair in Thunderbird 3. The kid was so wound up on adrenalin, he was surprised that he hadn't taken off under his own power. "Easy, Alan." He cautioned quietly. "You've already flown 1 and 2…and 4," he added belatedly, remembering his heart stopping in his chest when he saw his baby brother emerge from the Thames River in London. "Now you get to Pilot 3. Now, I'll still have access to the controls, and I will take over if necessary, but it's up to you to get us in the air, through the atmosphere and docked into 5. Got it?"

Alan nodded decisively, his hands gripping the throttle. "FAB, Scott."

Scott grinned at the familiar use of FAB and nodded. "Ok, engines are off and we're just sitting here. Let's get going, Sprout."

Alan nodded, and to Scott's pleasant surprise, did a full pre-flight check before turning on his headpiece and confirming with their father and John that they were ready to go. In the command chair, Jeff smiled, having followed all of the manual checks as they were completed, and gave the ok to launch. Less than a minute later, he crossed over to his window to watch the big red rocket soar high up into the air, quickly disappearing into the clouds.

"What took them so long?" Virgil asked from the doorway, and Jeff grinned over his shoulder at him

"Alan did all the pre-flight checks."

"I thought Scott already-"

"Yes, and Alan did as he was taught. Don't trust that someone else has done something – always check yourself. "

Virgil nodded and stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "He's really after growing up the last few months, hasn't he?"

Jeff shook his head. "He was grown up long before now, Virgil. We just didn't see it, or let him show it. The incident with the Hood showed me that. He stepped up, like any one of you would have done. I guess it's hard being the youngest. Gordon stayed a child as long as he could, because he had older brothers to terrorize, and a younger one to form a posse with. Alan, though – he always had to run to keep up with all of you. Literally, sometimes."

Virgil nodded slowly, his mood growing more sombre. "How do you think he'll do?" He jerked his head upwards, indicating Thunderbird 5.

"He'll make us proud, Virgil. Just like you all have. He has a steady head on his shoulders, when he's allowed show it. He has a temper, of course; he gets that from your mother, but it only comes to play when he's riled up. When he's teased, for example."

Virgil smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "We all agreed, dad, no more mentioning things that we know will spark him off. But he has to lose his sensitivity – when he gets to college, they'll crucify him if he's an easy mark."

Jeff shook his head, his smile now gone. "That's just it, Virgil. He's not an easy mark. You've all made him into one. And you know you do; you know all his deepest darkest secrets – you've known him since he was born. You know what he's done every step of the way, and you know how to get to him. Just like Scott knows how to get to you, and you know how to get to Gordon. But none of you prey on Scott or Gordon like you do Alan. Before Spring Break, it was verging on bullying. I didn't put a stop to it, and I should have. But I am now."

Virgil nodded glumly. "How come you haven't mentioned John in all this?"

Jeff looked at him pointedly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "John, to my knowledge, has never once teased Alan to the point of tears."

XXXxxxXXX

The son in question was waiting when they docked, his ever-present ear-piece hooked over his right ear, and a wide grin on his face.

"Well?" he directed the question to Scott, not looking at his pale baby brother until he got the answer he was waiting for.

"Alan's broken Virgil's record for speed, made two errors in all, and on the whole, was a hell of a lot better than Gordon's first try at docking." Scott replied frankly, shoving a box into his arms. Behind him, Alan blew out a long breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking. "Not bad for his first go."

Alan looked almost on the verge of being upset at the clinical description of his maiden voyage in Thunderbird 3, and John tucked his arm around him as he guided him inside his Thunderbird. "Aside from Dad, Gordon's the best at docking Thunderbird 3. Did you know that?"

The look of relief on Alan's face almost broke Scott's heart, and he summoned a warm smile to reassure the suddenly nervous teen. "I think it's something to do with docking a submarine; he had a lot of practice at that when he was in WASP, remember?"

Alan nodded, realizing that Gordon was a complete natural when it came to throwing Thunderbird 4 around underneath the water. Space probably wasn't that much different to an aquanaut. "He's really good at it then?"

John shrugged as they entered the main living space and gave Alan a small push inside. "Near enough. Not as good as Dad is though…"

"Nobody's as good as dad when it comes to throwing a rocket around space." Scott quipped, dropping his box onto the floor. "Kyrano sent up some perishables too. They're in Alan's box. He said they'll have to be eaten in the next three to four days."

John nodded, keeping an eye on Alan as he moved to the middle of the room and swept his eyes across the consoles, taking in every millimetre of space. "I'll walk you out." He murmured, following Scott through the access hatch. Sure Alan was out of earshot he tugged on Scott's sleeve. "How'd he really do?"

"Ok, so he might have made three mistakes, not two. But other than that, he acted like a pro, John. Cross my heart."

They both laughed softly at the action, and John nodded grudgingly. "Fair enough…"

"He's really excited about this, John. Just ease him into it slowly, but don't baby him. Ask him about what he thinks he's capable of doing and make him do a bit more. I think he'll surprise you."

"Let me guess; he surprised you?" John asked wryly, and Scott grinned in answer.

"Not me; dad. They took TB1 out for a spin yesterday and hit some bad weather. A lightning hit fried some of the stabilization booster circuits. Sprout managed to keep her upright and faced in the right direction until dad could re-boot the systems…"

"You must have been delighted."

"They only told me this morning." Scott snorted in reply. "Dad was grinning like a loon."

John rolled his eyes as Scott ducked through the airlock, quickly running through the procedure for un-docking from the Space Station. In the meantime, John returned to the control room, his grin returning when he saw Alan practically pressed up against the large glass window that covered one side of the room.

"What do you see, Sprout?" he asked fondly, coming to stand beside him, and Alan glanced up at him, his eyes wide with awe.

"Everything..." The teenager breathed softly. "John, this is...this is amazing. How can you stand to come down again?"

Alan found himself being tucked underneath John's arm as they both relaxed against each other, and John sighed. "It's hard, Alan. But you start to miss natural light after a while. And fresh air...and the feel of wind against your face. And earth...plants...human contact...home cooking...Then I have no problem coming down. But it will be nice to have company for the next two weeks. Especially yours. So tell me; how did you get on in school the last semester?"

Alan grimaced and picked up one of the boxes they'd brought up with them and shrugged. "Oh, the usual."

"I thought you said I'd be surprised at your results?" John immediately frowned, picking up the other box and leading the way into the small galley kitchen.

"Oh, they went fine. Better than expected....better than I'd expected even though I put in a lot of work the last few months. It's just that the teachers are a pain in the aft."

John's lips twitched at the use of the naval terminology for the rear of a ship and shook his head. "If dad hears you using Navy slang he'll wring your neck. Where'd you learn that from?"

Alan grinned as he ripped open his box and began to unpack, holding up each item of 'smuggled' contraband for his brother to see. "Bobby Bolivia at school, his father's pretty high up in the Navy; I forget what his rank is. After Ricky Parson got detention for three weeks for using the word 'ass', we needed a less...controversial word to use. Aft was the winner. Bobby won a week's supply of chocolate for his outstanding contribution. As far as I know, the teachers are still working out whether or not they can class the term as slang or not. We'll probably find out next year."

A soft chime interrupted their unpacking, and Alan dogged John's heels as he trotted back to his chair, sliding onto it smoothly and flicking a switch to put him through to the caller. Alan slipped on a spare earpiece and listened in as John quickly calmed down the youngster that had somehow managed to contact them and after listening, the older blonde's fingers began to dance over the console, triangulating the boys position and contacting the local authorities to tell them that the boy was stuck halfway up a cliff. He stayed on the line with the frightened boy until he could hear sirens in the background, and the boy hung up after he could hear his rescuers voices.

"That happen often?" Alan asked, adjusting the earpiece, and John shrugged, making his way back to the kitchen.

"Not too often. It's not that easy to contact us, Alan, and it's usually just the local authorities that know how to get us. Of course, Mayday calls from planes and boats are automatically picked up and an alert goes out-"

"The IO8 frequency?" John was surprised and merely nodded as Alan began to stow away the food. "Dad was telling me about that a few weeks ago. It's a pretty neat idea." Looking up, he saw John's shocked look and ruefully rolled his eyes. "John, you know I know the ins and outs of TB1, 2, 3 and 4's user manuals and a good bit of their plans, right?"

John nodded mutely.

"What makes you think I just stopped at 4? There were 5 Thunderbirds last time I looked, and I don't think that's changed, unless you've downgraded the station yourself. Why wouldn't I look at the Training Manual and simulator for the station? Dad's made no secret of the fact that he wants to have 2 of us as the main contacts up here, just in case something happens and someone needs to be replaced. I know he said that everybody's pretty good at everything, but Virgil does get Space Sick, Scott gets antsy being enclosed up here and Gordon..."

"Gordon just doesn't really like space." John finished off for him. "I know dad's hoping you'll take over some of the shifts when you finish college and everything. That won't be for a while, though, Sprout."

Alan shrugged, leaning against the countertop. "There's always holidays, John, until I finish School at least. And I've been thinking of doing some distance learning college courses...I know you've written books and everything up here...I could probably study around rescues. At least there'd be no distractions other than call's. I want to be a part of this; and I need to start learning as soon as I can. I've got a lot to catch up on, practical wise. It's all full and well knowing what to do in a rescue, but actually doing it, and doing it well is a whole other ball game.

They shared a knowing look, and Alan busied himself with heating up the dinner that Kyrano had sent up for them both. He knew it was a treat for John to eat so well when he was up in the sky, and having had to suffer with School Dinners for most of the year, he kind of knew how his older brother felt. He hadn't even touched the start button for the microwave when a blue light flashed inside the kitchenette, shocking him into running out into the main room.

John held up his hand for Alan to keep quiet, but quickly snatched another earpiece and handed it over. "Scott, you're nearing re-entry now. Do you think you can manage it on only one of the engines?"

There was a long silence as Alan quickly scanned the automatically generated transcript of the emergency call and blanched; something had caused two of Thunderbird 3's engines to shut down, and the third was only operating at 90% efficiency.

"Affirmative. I've managed to get Engine 2 back up to 100%. I can get her down and home on one engine, but I don't think she'll be going anywhere for the next couple of days; not until we can give the engines an overhaul...hang on, I'm hitting re-entry now. Talk to you in a minute or so."

As the radio cut out, John was already calling Tracy Island, relaying what they knew to have happened, and that Thunderbird 3 would be coming in crippled. It was a tense twenty minutes as Scott carefully angled the damaged rocket towards the island, and Alan found himself gripping John's hand tightly as their eldest brother brought it in for a landing. Only when Scott was reported as safe on the ground did either blonde breathe, and John realised he didn't know who had reached for whose hand; it was very probable he'd done it himself.

"He's fine, John." Alan nodded decisively, shrugging off the near-disaster that had nearly hit their brother. "He's fine, and we need to eat. We can't do anything from up here, can we?"

John nodded in agreement, feeling some of the blood in his body rush back to his face, but not too happy about the paleness of his brother. "Yeah, sprout; you're right. Uh...about, uh..."

"Hand-holding never happened, right?"

"Right!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Thunderbird 5 to Base."

Jeff frowned at the unfamiliar voice over the radio, but after a second realised it was Alan. He'd been up there less than a day, and already he sounded like a professional.

"Go ahead Alan." Jeff turned on the viewer and found both his sons staring at him seriously, but it was Alan that was in the command chair.

"We've received a mayday signal from a cruise liner in the mid-Pacific; coordinates are being transferred to your systems now. A Cruise Liner has been hit by a Rogue Wave. The captain estimated it to be approximately 27 meters high; it's swamped the ship and they are having trouble pumping the water out. The ship is listing port-side and he has reported that all passengers and crew are accounted for and have been issued life jackets and they are preparing to evacuate the ship. They currently have clear-skies but the swell is high to very high; Captain is reporting additional waves of approximately 9 to 14 meters. We are reading no further vessels in the area, nor have we received any distress signals from other vessels. No serious injuries have been reported from this vessel."

"How many aboard?" Jeff asked, already activating the alert to summon his other sons.

"About 900, dad. It's one of the Southwark fleet; Last year we had another ship hit by a Rogue wave, remember? The Mary Elizabeth?" At his father's nod, John continued; "I think this is the same Captain. When he activated the Mayday, he used my first name."

"Check." Jeff ordered quickly as he cut off communications and gestured to his sons to make their way to their vehicles. "Large Cruise Ship hit by a freak wave; approximately 900 on board; ship is listing port-side and lower decks are swamped. Virgil, we need Pod 4."

Up in Thunderbird 5, Alan's fingers danced over the keys, quickly re-establishing contact with the stricken ship while John watched over him. "Mary Rose, this is International Rescue. What is your current condition?"

"Same as five minutes ago, son." The Captain felt the ship list slightly further port-side and gritted his teeth. "I'd say we've got about another half hour before she goes over completely. I've given the order to evacuate the passengers and non-essential crew and the Escape Pods are being launched now. Senior Crew and I will stay as long as possible and keep you updated before we evac; copy?"

"Copy Mary Rose. One last question; were you on board the Mary Elizabeth last year?"

The captain smiled thinly and nodded sharply. "Aye, sir. Me and most of the Senior Crew. Does that make a difference?"

"It's a help; you remember what I told you the last time?" John murmured into his microphone and the Captain started to laugh.

"Point taken. We'll take the emergency radio with us; you can still reach us on it?"

"Affirmative, sir. Now the second the last of the passengers and crew are off the ship you get off it; understood?"

"Understood. I remember what you shouted at me last time; don't be a hero."

Alan and John smiled at his resigned tone, and John covered his microphone. "Last time I had to shout at him for five minutes solid to get him to abandon ship. There's no point being a hero if the only person left to save is you."

"So, shouting is allowed?"

"If they are being idiots, then yes. Even if it's a president. I had to shout at the President of Bolivia about two years ago to get him to give me the coordinates of an underground bunker."

Alan nodded, filing the information away for further use, and between them, they orchestrated the pick-up of the life-pods, coordinating rescue efforts between the American and Japanese Coast-Guard. Aboard Thunderbird 2, the last Pod was taken out of the ocean and its passengers carefully removed from the cramped area.

"Commander, one of the men wishes to speak with you." Gordon murmured over the radio, and Jeff frowned, handing over the controls to Virgil to bring the rescue vehicle to Hawaii where most of the survivors were being taken. Sliding down the ladder into the main hanger bay, helmet firmly in place, Jeff came face to face with the Captain and Senior Officers and found his hand being pumped up and down by the grey haired and grey-faced Captain.

"Thank your men for me, please. I didn't get this chance last year, but I'm taking it now. We would have been to hell in a hand basket if it weren't for your men and you. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Jeff smiled and patted the man's hand gently. "It's our pleasure, Captain. I'm just glad we could be there to help."

"And tell those two on the radio that they were great...and tell that John fellow that I'm sorry about the cursing last time. It's not every Captain that has his ship go down on him like that, and my behaviour was inexcusable." Behind him, his second in command rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling of the vehicle, remembering well the scene on board the bridge of the Mary Elizabeth as the bow began to point up towards the sky, and he and one of the Engineers had to practically drag the Captain to the escape pod.

"Like I said, it's our pleasure. We'll be in Hawaii in approximately thirty minutes and you can disembark then."

XXXxxxXXX

Once Thunderbird 2 was safely docked in her hanger and the debriefing finished, Alan took off the earpiece with a sigh, rubbing at his ear. "Well, that's a little more tiring than I thought it would be." He murmured, stretching awkwardly. John rubbed his shoulders, easing out the tension.

"You did really well, Sprout." He smiled, and walked over to the kitchenette, pouring them both a cup of coffee. He was actually surprised at how well Alan had done. After a quick run-through of the systems, the older of the two blondes had taken a back seat for the whole operation, only correcting Alan on one or two things as he completed his first check of the systems and radio frequencies. After that, he'd not had to open his mouth. He'd taken a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he came back, he found Alan answering a call, sounding every bit the professional as he took down details and asked for clarification on the passenger number and the coordinates, checking them against the computers indication for source of origin to make sure it wasn't a hoax.

They settled down for a few hours relaxing reading, and John kept sneaking a look at his brother, watching him stare out at the stars with a look of wonder on his face. Finally seeing his brother yawn widely, even after finishing a full mug of Kyrano's special blend coffee, John plucked the earpiece out of his ear and half-lifted him out of his seat. "Go to bed, Al. I'll switch everything onto standby..."

"I'll do it." Alan piped up quickly, taking the headset back. "You tell me what to do and I'll do it. I'm here to learn, Johnnie, not be treated like a kid visiting his brother's apartment for the first time."

"I don't think there's much for you to learn." John murmured softly to himself as Alan began to complete the shut-down. He watched carefully as Alan turned everything on to night mode and grabbed his sleeping bag, rolling it out in a corner of the room. As the station was only meant to support one man, there was only one bed, and though it was a large single, both of them would definitely not fit. John was slightly surprised that Alan would automatically assume he was sleeping on the floor, but obviously the teenager had more things on his mind than sleeping in a bed. He'd picked a spot in front of the AC Units beside the large window so he could see the stars. Shaking his head, John turned off the lights and closed the door to his bedroom, vowing that they would alternate places each night.

A few minutes later, a soft chirping came from the vid-screen beside his bed, and he turned it on to find his dad's face staring at him. "Well?"

"Dad, he handled that call all by himself. I was in the Head when it came in, and by the time I got there he'd already made sure it wasn't a hoax and had the coordinates, state of the ship and passenger number. He was as cool as a cucumber...mostly. The usual first-call nerves, but he did just fine."

"Do you think he'll be able-"

"More able than Gordon, dad. I think he's like you; he's got space dust in his veins. I don't know how long he'll be able to stand up here, though. Maybe longer than Virgil, but maybe not as long as me. We'll have to fit it around his tolerances. Probably still have the others in rotation-"

"I had already intended that, John. As you both so eloquently pointed out to me in the past few weeks, you were losing touch with each other; and that's the last thing I want to happen. You won't always be on opposing shifts, and we'll make sure that you both have down-time together. It will more than likely be you for three weeks, then perhaps Virgil for one, Gordon for one, Scott for one, and then Alan for three, handing over to you again."

John nodded slowly. "Sounds good, dad...though can I make a suggestion?"

Jeff sipped at his coffee, a frown returning to his face. "What?"

"I think it might be best if you swap Gordon and Virgil?...Gordon's more likely to prank Scott than Virgil, and it's doubtful that Alan will prank me. Nobody wants a saran-wrapped station again. "

Jeff sighed, knowing John was right, and made a notation on the pad in front of him. "We'll see how the next few weeks go before we make any decisions about the future. Alan has two years of school left before we can even think about him becoming a full time member of IR, let alone college."

"He's been looking at long distance courses so he can do some of it up here." John mused softly, and Jeff sighed.

"I just don't want him to suffer because of my dream-"

"Our dream, dad. Not just yours. Sure, you thought it up, but the second you said it, we all wanted in. Even Alan. Some kids want to be scientists all their lives, from the moment some idea sparks in their heads that they want to make the world a better place. Some kids want to be doctors, some kids want to be firemen or farmers. Some kids want to be politicians. Alan wants to be part of an organisation that can turn out at a moment's notice to rescue 900 people from a sinking ship. Or help a small kid stuck halfway down a cliff. It's not for glory; if it were, then I'd worry. We're putting ourselves on the line, when nobody knows our names or faces. Ok, maybe some of it is to make you proud, but I think by now, after two months of daily phone calls from pretty much all of us, he knows we're proud of him no matter what."

Jeff sighed again, nodding slowly as he stirred his coffee. "I know, John, I'd just hate for him to miss an opportunity to do something he loves because he's up there, or stuck on some godforsaken mission..."

"We all knew what we were signing up for, Dad. Still do. And Alan's seen first-hand what goes on here. And I hope you've let him know-"

"He knows he can get out any time he wants, even if it's just for a short break. I don't want any of you burning out. Which is why..." Jeff set down the coffee mug and picked up a folder, holding up a brochure to him; "You are both going to Maui when you get down from there...eventually. Brains doesn't think the engine re-fit on Thunderbird 3 will take any longer than a week, but we can't be sure."

John nodded sharply, understanding the implications; be careful with your supplies. "Understood, sir. Any idea what happened?"

"Space debris somehow managed to puncture the plates on the engine housing. Caused a ricochet effect that took out some of the parts. Brains, Scott and Virgil are still at it."

"And Gordon?" John wondered why the red-head wasn't working on the engines, and Jeff sighed again, his mood changing.

"Well, only so many people can work in the space, and Brains is already helping them."

"And?" John pressed, instinctivly knowing there was more.

"And he may have had a muscle spasm in his back earlier. He said it was nothing, but I'd rather not take the chance. He's doing a few laps in the pool to ease it out and if it gets any worse I'll send him stateside for a check-up. I don't want to chance him messing up his back again."

John echoed his fathers sigh and nodded. "Keep me posted, dad. Alan too. I'll let him know in the morning."

"John-"

"Dad." John murmured warningly. "He's not an adult, but he's not a kid either. He'd kill you if you didn't tell him. The only thing worse than knowing is finding out after the fact and realising that your entire family were keeping something from you. Remember how well that went with the Hydrofoil crash? You decided not to tell him about the accident until you knew how Gordon was after the surgery...and it turned out he'd been watching the whole thing on the TV? And because we all had our cell phones turned off in the hospital he couldn't get through to us? And then the idiot reporters said that there were no survivors and he collapsed? Remember?"

Jeff nodded, suitably chastised. "I remember. And I will keep you both posted. It's probably only happened because he was in a cramped space for so long. I'm sure he will be fine."

"As am I, but I'm still telling Alan first thing in the morning, so you'll have to keep us informed, otherwise we'll both be worrying. Got it?"

"Got it." Jeff grinned sheepishly, and the screen winked off.

Rolling his eyes, John climbed under the sheets and turned a few times beneath the covers before reaching for the light. There was a few odd thumps before he hit the switch, and he frowned, listening hard for anything strange. Shaking his head, he dismissed it as his hearing playing tricks on him and hit the switch. The light strip flickered but didn't turn off, making him frown. Throwing back the covers, he stuck his feet back into his slippers and stood up, staring at the flickering with a worried look on his face. As he reached out to touch the switch again, the light surged bright enough to make him shield his eyes before the station rocked violently, throwing him to the floor as the light above him shattered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for your reviews - they are always appreciated and taken to heart!**

* * *

Climbing slowly to his feet, John groaned softly, shaking his head and arms to get rid of the shards of Perspex that covered him. Coughing slightly, he staggered to the door and hit the button to open it, a shot of fear darting through him when it refused to budge. Hammering on it, he yelled Alan's name a few times before dragging off his pyjamas and clambering back into his uniform; if there was a problem, he didn't want to be caught out in his sleeping gear.

Picking his way across the pitch black room, he felt carefully for the Vid-Screen, hoping it would still work. The screen lit up the room as it came on, and he breathed a sigh of relief, hitting the button to put a call through to his father.

"Hey Johnny, dad's just gone to bed -what's wrong?" Gordon's mild amusement turned to concern when he realised that John was completely in the dark; even with the lights turned off, the security lighting would slightly illuminate the cabins.

"Get Dad; something's gone wrong; the lights flickered, surged and exploded and at the same time the station was rocked by something – it was just like the time with the Hood. I can't get out of the bedroom; the door is locked tight and I can't get through to Alan at all."

The red-head froze, hearing the unsaid implications; something had hit the station again, and he dropped the towel he'd been using to dry his hair. "Have you tried your watch?"

John cursed loudly; he'd forgotten Brains's new invention. Gordon waited impatiently as John manipulated the buttons to contact Alan, finally shaking his head. "It's no good, I still can't get through. Get Dad!"

Gordon nodded sharply as John's screen went blank and hit the alarm call, waiting anxiously for everyone to arrive, unsure of what to do next. Finally, Jeff and Scott trotted in, with Virgil and Brains a few paces behind. "Gordon, what's the emergency?"

"We think something's hit Thunderbird 5 again. Power fluctuations and then the station shook. John's room sealed him in, and he can't contact Alan. The back-up lighting in his room has failed and the vid cut out."

Jeff stared at him mutely for a moment before sitting down heavily, Brains paling and covering his mouth with his hand. "What?"

"The only reason that John's room would seal is because it's an emergency pod. The kitchenette, storage lockers and his bedroom seal in the event of a hull breach. You've basically got a minute to get into any of them before they seal tight so that not too much oxygen is lost..." Scott murmured, his words were soft but they all heard him clearly.

"Alan probably made it into the kitchen, right?" Gordon and Virgil asked hopefully, but the look on their fathers face told him different. "Dad?"

"If two of you didn't know about it, then what are the chances Alan did?" Jeff's voice was as soft as Scott's. Beside him, Brains was checking the computer.

"I a-am unable t-to connect with T-Thunderbird 5's systems. I cannot do a diagnostic to c-ch-see."

"Dad...?"

"He could have-"

"He might have-"

Gordon and Virgil shared a look, and both sighed.

"He said he'd read the manual, dad. He might have known." Gordon murmured. "He even did a quick flick through last night. It's in there, right? Right?"

Brains slowly shook his head as Jeff buried his face in his hands in a rare show of emotion. "The manual hasn't b-been fully updated yet..." Brains murmured guiltily.

After a moment Jeff blew out a long breath, reaching for his contact book. "With 3 out of the question…" He bit at his lip, "I don't see any other option."

"Dad?" Scott moved closer, half-guessing what his father was hinting to. "The WASA?"

Jeff nodded sharply and looked up at Brains. "Keep trying to get in touch with 5. The WASA are the only ones that have the capability of getting there…"

XXXxxxXXX

The Director of WASA looked at his deputy quizzically. "Are you sure it's International Rescue, and not some hoax?"

Tom Tiernan nodded. "I'm sure, sir. He's waiting on the other end of the line for you." He held out a phone and the Director took it, putting down the file in his hand.

"This is Gordon Watt. How can we be of assistance to you?"

There was a deep breath on the other end of the line, and a strangely familiar voice began to speak. "General Watt, this is the Commander of International Rescue. We have helped you in the past, and now we need your help. Twenty minutes ago, we received a communication from our Operative manning our Space Station. He managed to tell us that they had suffered some kind of power fluctuation, and the Station shook…the last time it shook like that it had been hit by a missile. We currently have one Operative trapped in his sleeping quarters; it is designed as an Emergency Pod which is only activated in the case of hull breach. The status of the second Operative on board is unknown. He was in the main living and work area of the Station."

Watt nodded, turning so that he was walking towards Mission Control, his pace increasing as the Commander spoke. "And how can we help?"

"Our space vehicle was hit by debris on its return to earth this morning; it took out two of its engines and there is no way for us to get there in time without your assistance."

"Bear with me a moment." Jeff bowed his head as he waited for his old Commander to give him the answer he needed. Through his lashes he could see his other sons sitting on the couch in various poses of extreme frustration. It wasn't something they could resign themselves to. The rescuers having to stand by while those they normally rescued saved the day…and their family.

Covering the mouthpiece of his phone, Watt hurried inside the room, heading straight for the Mission Controller. "Booth, what ship is-"

"Watt, you have to see this." Booth held up his hand and brought up something on his private screen. "This appeared about twenty minutes ago. We think it's International Res-"

"What ship is closest to make a rescue effort? They have 2 men stranded, one alive, one unknown." Watt held up the phone, his hand still covering the mouth piece. "Their Commander just contacted me."

Booth made a face and called up a star chart which was quickly overlaid by a web of orbit rings. "The Cordoba, I think…it left Station Phoenix III a few hours ago. It can get there in about 4 hours, give or take a few. It's the closest without having to break orbit which would just add more time." He waited for Watt's nod and reached for his head-set. "I'll give them the coordinates."

"Commander, we have a ship that can be there in 4 hours. It's being commanded by one of our finest. I can guarantee you complete anonymity and secrecy for this, Commander."

"Thank you." Watt was sure he'd never heard such sincerity in a man's voice before, and he nodded slowly at Booth as he waited for the Commander of the Shuttle to answer the hail. "We will be at your facility in approximately 3 hours. I will contact you again. And thank you, so much."

As the line went dead, Booth heard the familiar voice of his former Commander come on the line. "Noyce, you need to change direction to the coordinates I am transferring to your navigation array. A-sap. This is a code-red call, transfer to Omega 8 frequency and await further orders." He quickly switched onto the shielded frequency and waited for Noyce to do the same. After a second, Commander Noyce's voice came back on. "Ok Logan, what's going on?"

"The coordinates will lead you to the International Rescue Space Station. They have an unknown situation there and have lost contact with 2 of their operatives. Their space vehicle was damaged by debris today and they have no way of reaching them in time. It should take you around 3-4 hours to reach them. Your mission has now gone on the back-burner; the corn samples can wait to get back to earth."

Alan Noyce's eyebrow raised up high and he nodded, seeing that the information he needed was already being downloaded.

"And Alan, I know you don't need reminding, but I want you to tell your crew that anything and everything that they see on board their Station is to be considered top secret, from the colour of the men's hair to what their floor is made of. No one speaks of this mission once they touch down on the ground. Even to each other. International Rescue has come to the help of two shuttle crews in the last four years, saving the lives of twelve of your co-workers. If news of their identities came to the knowledge of the general public, they wouldn't be able to do their jobs any more. And none of us want that. Just keep yourselves safe, and try to help them out."

"Roger." Alan cut Booth off and turned to his crew who were eyeing him curiously. "Ok guys, hands up; who wants to help International Rescue?"


	4. Chapter 4

Watt waited on the cleared apron of the WASA space compound that normally held at least one shuttle, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon as a small dot in the clouds became larger and more recognisable. Tom Tiernan stood beside him, nervously tapping his hand against the side of his leg. They both appreciated the smooth manouver that brought the silver rocket down easily onto the tarmac, and Watt was hurrying towards it before the engines cut out.

Four men in blue jump-suits and helmets disembarked, and Watt realised he was facing what was probably the main command chain of the infamous rescue teams. "Commander; Gordon Watt." He quickly shook the hand of the man who approached him, and immediately began leading him towards the building behind him. "The Cordoba is approaching your station now. They've had no success in hailing them."

"Neither have we." The tallest of the three other men muttered darkly. "Our chief scientist is still trying back at base. We should have been able to at least do a remote take-over. The station's systems are completely down."

"We know." Tom announced breathlessly as he fought to keep up with the much taller men. "Your Station appeared on our screens right about the same time you reported the problem. I'm guessing that whatever you use to cloak it is gone offline too."

Jeff felt his heart fall. If anyone else could tell where the station was, they were in deep trouble.

"We've been bouncing a signal off it since just after you contacted us. It's successfully masking it; anyone that looks for it by energy signature will either get really confused, or think that they're tracking a clean-up drone." Tom grinned, proud of his quick thinking. Scott slapped the man on his back without thinking, gripping his arm tightly in thanks.

"Tom did good?"

Used to his Deputy's quirky ways, Watt nodded with a wry grin. "Yeah Tom, you did good. Remind me to buy you a drink."

"I'll buy you a case of it." Jeff offered gratefully. "Or a lifetime's supply."

XXXxxxXXX

As the shuttle closed in on the space station, Noyce peered out of the portside window, frowning as he tugged his gloves into place. "Jared, get on the Omega 8 frequency and tell Booth that there's no debris outside of the station – no indication that there was a hull failure. There should be something floating about, even if it's just bits of the hull."

Taking his helmet from his one of the scientists not oogling the space station, he put it over his head and snapped it into place, allowing Clare to make sure it was air-tight. This was his last mission before he retired, and boy, was it a doozy. He had been expecting a nice, quiet, watch the plants in the pots develop mission. Not a seek out and explore, and for gods sake don't tell anyone what you see mission. He would take only one other man on board with him, to make sure that the area was kept contained.

The shuttle gave a small lurch as it met the docking clamps and a green light signalled that they were correctly attached to the main station and that it was safe to disembark.

"Murphy, you are with me." His second-in-command gave him a thumbs up and walked into the airlock, double-checking the settings on the portable sensor. When the door on the other side opened, he carefully took readings before putting the machine away.

"We have O2; atmosphere is tolerable. There's a lot of smoke in the air, Boss."

Noyce nodded, not removing his helmet for the time being. He didn't know what would be behind any of the doors, and the last thing he wanted was to open a door and find himself staring at space…for two minutes at any rate before his lungs collapsed. "Ok, lets go."

"I'm guessing the main ops room is this way." Murphy shone his powerful torch down a long, pitch black corridor in front of them.

"Ever feel you're an extra in a bad remake of Star Trek?" Noyce muttered to his friend, who laughed.

"Yeah, but remember, it's always the unknown crewmember in red dies first. We're in dark blue. We should be fine." He countered, still letting Noyce go first. It wasn't long before they found themselves in the main control room which was covered in a haze of smoke. There were two doors to the right, and a jumble of warped and damaged equipment covered two walls, the debris spreading out onto the floor.

They carefully picked their way across the floor, crunching with each step until they reached the first door. Reaching down to his belt, Murphy activated his radio. "Mission Control, this is Murphy, we've reached the main control room. No hull failure, just a lot of smoke and no light. There are 2 doors; we're at the one closest to the main link corridor leading from the airlock. I'm looking at a punch pad. Is there a code we can use to open it from the outside or do we have to force it?"

Back in Mission Control, Virgil sagged with relief at the announcement that the hull hadn't breached. Beside him, Jeff gripped Scott's shoulder tightly, ignoring the stares they were getting from the workers in the main control room. "The code is 22814."

Murphy nodded as the code was relayed to him and stepped back as Noyce banged on the door three times. "This is the WASA – we're opening the door!"

Inside, John jumped to his feet and began to frantically search for something to cover his face with. He'd been sitting in the darkness for over 4 hours, his fears beginning to get the better of him as he envisioned his family finally getting up there to find him a skeleton…or never getting to him at all. His thoughts veered wildly between those living nightmares and worry for Alan. Hearing the keypad outside activate, he gave up and awaited his fate.

The door whooshed open, and John blinked in the sudden harsh light. "Hi." He greeted them, and Noyce gaped for a long minute. Beside him, Murphy's eyebrows raised high, and after a long silence, he huffed out a snort. "Well, that explains more than it doesn't; Johnny T."

"Murph?" John blurted out, shocked, and Murphy nodded, secretly amazed that the young man he'd taken under his wing for his first and only mission with the WASA was a member of International Rescue.

"And Commander Alan Noyce."

"Hi Uncle Alan."

Noyce simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head in disbelief. "Hi yourself. Ok, John, let's get you back to our ship and have our medic take a look at you."

John shook his head violently. "I'm not hurt, just some smoke inhalation. We have a second operative up here. He's young…he's in training." He strained his eyes to look through the gloom, and Noyce nodded.

"We know; your commander told us. You up to looking for him?"

John didn't answer, but brushed past him as he rushed into the main room. "Oh, god…" He trailed off as Noyce began to shine his torch around the area, showing him the devastation. Noyce handed him a spare torch, and John used it to pick his way through the debris until he was at a large panel. He flicked a few switches, hoping to get at least the lighting back and clear the smoke, and finally shook his head. "Nothing. The station is dead."

"Guys…" Murphy had continued to look around, and he pointed to a two foot wide piece of the hull which was bowed inwards. "Meteorite hit?"

John gaped at the damage to the hull, seeing the other poc marks that showed that the meteorites had penetrated the outer hull…and showed just how close they'd come to a hull failure. "Definitely. We're supposed to have an early warning system…" He trailed off, remembering that was the final piece of equipment that was meant to go into the station, and was due to be installed when Brains came up at the end of this rotation. "It hasn't been installed yet. The station was badly damaged two months ago after we were hit by a missile. It's only been up and running just over a week now."

Noyce nodded, understanding why the station had come on-line unfinished. Though everyone understood something catastrophic had happened to shut down International Rescue for over a week, few knew exactly why. They had started calling for help before the week was even up; with that much demand, they needed their eye in the sky up and running as quickly as possible. The station creaked alarmingly, and all three men froze, staring up at the ceiling. "I understand, son. Let's find your friend and get you out of here."

Though the station wasn't large, the room was big enough, having to house most of the computers and equipment needed to run a station 24/7. Many of the computers and machines that had lined the walls had shaken loose from their housing and were lying in pieces around the place. John, however, had a better idea of where Alan might have been lying when the meteorite strike had hit. Tossing aside a light piece of sheet metal, he sucked in a sharp breath. Alan was barely visible beneath what used to be the AC unit, one hand and his head poking out from beneath the heavy machine.

Without a word, Murphy turned on his heel and ran back to the Cordoba for a stretcher. "On the count of three." Noyce murmured, crouching down to grip underneath the unit. John nodded, and straining hard, they managed to lift it away from Alan, dropping it a few feet away. The second he let go, John scrambled back to Alan, pressing two fingers to the unconscious teenager's throat.

"He's alive…" He breathed, relief filling him. Looking up at Noyce, he grinned through his tears. "Alan's alive."

"Alan?" Noyce asked sharply, finally tugging off his helmet to meet John eye to eye. "Alan? As in my godson Alan?"

John nodded, turning his attention back to his baby brother. "His first time up here. He's just started his training. Great start. First time out he gets choked by a nut-case called the Hood; second time out he gets blown up. At this rate he'll never want to step foot on another Thunderbird again."

Noyce, however, was still getting to grips with the fact that the sons of one of his oldest friends were members of an ultra-secret organisation. "And your father…"

"Is the Commander; do you honestly think he'd let Alan do this otherwise. He designed this place, he built this station."

A clatter of heavy boots on metal signalled Murphy's return, and the Major handed over two pieces of material to the blonde before starting to put the stretcher together. "Clare made them up while we were here; they're masks…she basically just cut out two eyeholes in a strip from somebody's t-shirt. Tie it around his face, and your own if you don't want to get recognised by anyone but us."

John nodded, carefully tying the strip around Alan's face, glad that somebody had had some foresight. Spotting his shaking hands, Noyce unhooked his earpiece and handed it over. "Talk to your dad, John. We'll put him on the stretcher and carry him back.

John nodded numbly, hooking the speaker and mike over his ear. "This is IR Operative 3 to Base Commander. Come in Base Commander."

In Mission Control, Jeff sank down onto a seat in relief. "Op 3, this is Commander. Go ahead."

"It looks like we took a meteorite strike on one side of the station. Most of the equipment shook loose from its housing when the Station shook. Structure is still sound so they couldn't have been this large...Sir, Op 5 was…was buried underneath the A/C unit. He's unconscious…Commander Noyce and Major Murphy are looking after him…"

Jeff heard the unsaid words and swallowed hard. Alan was in a bad way. "Bring him home, John."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about all the Gordon's and Alan's - I'll try to keep it as clear as I can who is talking and who isn't...**

The crew of the Cordoba watched from their stations as the stretcher was carried on and secured next to the large port-hole on the side of the shuttle. A young man wearing the black mask Claire had made sat next to the unconscious man's head, closely watching the Shuttle's medic check him over.

As the hatch closed and the shuttle began to disengage from the station, Claire poured out a cup of water and handed it to him, kneeling in front of him. "Hey, you ok?"

The man coughed a few times and gratefully at the water. "Fine, thanks."

She smiled briefly at him, but her smile waned as her attention went past his head and out the window. Turning in his seat, John watched the hull of his Thunderbird drift away, and as they began to move more quickly, the station continued turning, finally revealing the damage.

"My god…" He breathed softly, and Noyce peered over his shoulder, grimacing. That side of the station hadn't been visible as they'd approached, and he hadn't see the large pock marks that littered that side of the station.

"You are lucky…some of them did puncture the skin of the station, look."

John nodded, already seeing what Claire was pointing out. "I know. We built in a secondary hull system...in case anything punctured it. I guess it's the only thing that saved us. One of those hits was directly where my sleeping quarters are."

Seeing the paleness of his skin, Noyce gripped his chin and turned him away from the window, directing his gaze back to Alan. "Talk to him. It might help to bring him round. We'll be landing in about forty minutes, give or take a few."

XXXxxxXXX

Watt watched as two of the four men stalked up and down the small patch of the landing strip they'd been confined to. He had used his rank and pull to get a mobile medical unit on the scene; a unit that was usually only used in disasters or war-zones. In this case, the doctor was an older man, close to retirement, and had already set up the unit in readiness for the injuries the shuttle's medic had reported. He stood next to the shortest of the four men who was absently rotating his shoulder as if trying to work out tight muscles.

"Ok, can any of you tell me his medical history?" He asked finally, and Virgil nodded.

"I can. I'm the resident medic. He's allergic to penicillin. He's had all his shots including Malaria, Diptheria, Measles, Mumps and Rubella, Polio and Hepititis. He's not on any medication. His blood type is B-, and if you need blood there's two of us that can donate. He hurt his back about two months ago when a maniac threw him against a wall and tried to choke him to death; the back wasn't bad – just some muscle bruising and his doctor cleared him about a month ago."

"Here he comes." Scott and Jeff stopped pacing, their quick eyes spotting the grey body of the shuttle making it's way towards the landing pad. Like Thunderbird 1's landing, it seemed to be moving deceptively slow until it was suddenly on top of them, thrusters angling down as it landed gently on it's designated pad. It was an agonising wait for the hatch to open and the ramp to extend. The first person to appear was Noyce, and right behind him was John, face obscured by a black piece of material. Jeff was moving before he even realised it, though he was overtaken by Scott and Gordon as they rushed forwards to greet their clearly shocked brother.

"It's ok, John. You're down." Scott murmured as John buried his face against the familiar blue uniform.

"It's not ok. He's still unconscious. Damnit, Scott that unit's heavy and he was covered by it. I should have told him…I should have told him to sleep in the room with me. But he wanted to see the stars…"

"Al's strong, John. He'll be fine." Scott looked over John's shoulder to see the stretcher being carefully manoeuvred out onto the ramp, the doctor immediately going to its side and checking his patient's vitals, while Virgil approached the other side of the stretcher, his mouth behind the visor a taut line as the Shuttle's Medic began to fill them in on what he'd found.

"Let's get him inside. I want x-rays and scans STAT." He snapped at the medics beside him, and the Tracy's watched helplessly as the stretcher disappeared inside the white truck that was quickly driven inside the nearest hanger.

XXXxxxXXX

Noyce watched the techs unload the precious grain samples in their sterile containers, and finally turned to Murph. "Can you finish this up?"

Knowing what his commander was going to do, Murph nodded. "If the kid survives, tell John he owes me a crate of beer." He murmured. "And that I'll expect to meet him face to face to collect. I've got some questions I want answered."

Noyce nodded and followed the path the truck had taken, using his ID to gain access to the hanger. The truck was parked in the far corner, well out of the way, and about fifty feet away from it a small area had been partitioned off and was surrounded by MP's. Striding towards it, Noyce called out his name, holding up his ID to the armed men that moved to bar his entrance.

"Let him past." John announced, appearing at a small break in the temporary walls, and beckoned him inside. "It's ok."

Noyce smiled tightly and slipped past him, shocked that one minute he couldn't hear anything inside, and the next, Virgil's voice was calmly advising his father that Alan would be fine. "It's a dampening field." John explained quietly. "A friend thought it up…put it on Thunderbird 1 before we left in case we needed to talk in private. It stops any bugs from transmitting, too."

Noyce nodded again, taking in the taut faces of his friend and his sons sitting on hard plastic chairs. "Jeff…" He began, but suddenly found himself unable to say anything else.

"Al, thank you." Jeff stood up quickly, reaching to shake Noyce's hand. "I don't know what we would have done if…if WASA didn't help us."

Noyce nodded slowly, sinking into a chair. "You'll have to forgive me, Jeff, it's not every day you find out that the man who is the most…everybody wants to know who he is….and it turns out he's your old wing-man…and his family are the ones running around saving the goddamned world! For chrissake, Jeff, he's only fourteen!"

"Uncle Al; now is neither the time, nor the place." Scott murmured calmly, keeping his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "Please. Our brother is lying in god only knows what state in that truck. This can wait."

"And if you don't stop, dad will deck you." Gordon muttered, keeping his eyes closed as he rubbed his hands together in a rare show of frustration. "And if he doesn't, I will; Alan and John's savour or not. We do what we do, Uncle Al. And if we didn't, no on else would. End of story."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay - Patchy Internet Connection amongst so many other things...**

* * *

Alan awoke to something bright being shone in his eyes, and he immediately brought up his arms to shield them from the glare, only to have them pressed back down onto something hard. "Easy there, son." A kindly voice warned him. "You knocked your head and bruised some ribs. You need to take it easy. If you want, I can have one of your friends brought in to sit with you to keep you quiet."

Alan could barely understand what was being said, but nodded, bringing his hand up again to grip the oxygen mask sitting on his face. Dr. Craig was about to move his hand back onto the sheet, but he realised that the boy wasn't trying to move it, just work out what it was. "Oxygen, son, just for a little while until we get you properly stabilised."

"Want Dad…" Alan moaned, and the Doctor nodded.

"We'll see what we can do." Motioning for one of the medics to sit with him, he opened the back door of the truck and hopped out, stripping off his gloves. He strode towards the cordoned off area and nodded to the medics as one of them rapped on the outer wall and called out that the doctor was coming. Inside, the Tracys pulled back on their helmets, and John tugged back down his make-shift mask, turning in his seat to see the Doctor enter.

Dr. Craig was glad when no one began to barrage him with questions, and he sat down beside Jeff, sensing he was the one to talk to. "Ok, firstly, your man – or should I say boy, just woke up. He was coherent enough, and coordinated, which to my mind can rule out any major head injury, though he does have a whopper of a concussion. The scans and x-rays have showed that he got a pretty bad crack on the head. There are four small fracture lines leading around the cranium; he's going to have to be very careful over the next couple of months to make sure he doesn't hit it again, and going into space is a definite no-no. There's no sign of swelling of the brain tissue, so that's good. No spinal injuries, no internal bleeding. There is pretty bad bruising on his back, and especially his shoulders, chest and legs and he's bruised a few ribs but none are broken. Something heavy fell on him?"

"An Air Conditioning Unit." John murmured, and the Doctor nodded again.

"Must have been a big one. So far as I can see, he'll be fine after a little bit of TLC. He's going to be sore as hell for the next few weeks. He's not to push himself too hard; no running, no over-exertion of any kind. If he finds a book hard to carry, then somebody else carries it for him. And if you think it's too heavy then you better damn well carry it for him; understood?"

Jeff nodded, hardly able to believe his ears. Alan had looked dreadful on the stretcher, and he'd been envisioning life-threatening injuries, broken bones, punctured lungs…everything under the sun. "You're sure?"

"As sure as thirty five years as a doctor in the military can be." Dr. Craig assured him. "And believe me, I've seen everything. The boy is going to be ok." He stood up and shook Jeff's hand firmly. "Have you got a proper medical facility at your base? And someone with medical training to watch over him?"

Jeff nodded, and Virgil stood up. "I'm a Grade 2 Field Medic. We also have a qualified MD on our staff back at our base." He volunteered. Dr. Craig nodded appreciatively.

"In that case, I'll be happy enough to sign him over to you in about 12 to 16 hours once I've done another MRI and he passes it ok. We just want to keep a close eye on him to make sure we've missed nothing. Oh, and by the way, he asked for his father. Is there any way to get him here?"

Jeff found himself sighing again, and he nodded. "I'm his father. Thank you, Doctor."

"No problem."

XXXxxxXXX

Jeff's heart nearly broke when he saw Alan lying on the bed surrounded by so many machines and medics, all monitoring him closely.

"He woke up again, Doctor." One man announced, moving away from the bed. "Said something like 'Didn't do it' before falling asleep again.

Jeff found himself smiling at that, and took the seat the medic indicated at the head of the bed, in between the machines but not in the way of them. "I'll be he did." He murmured, his voice slightly muffled by his helmet.

"Trouble maker?" Craig asked good-naturedly, and Jeff nodded.

"He's a teenage boy. Of course he is." He replied wryly, enjoying the Doctor's fresh frankness. It wasn't something he was used to, either as the Commander of International Rescue or Jeff Tracy, multi-billionaire extraordinaire. "If he's not in trouble then the world has gone off it's axis. Hey there, son."

Alan's eyes opened to slits, and he frowned, seeing the helmet but not knowing who was behind it. "Dad?"

"None other, Al. You're going to be fine. Do you remember what happened?"

Alan nodded slowly, his head throbbing in beat to his heart. "Sommink hit the station. Stuff started falling but I got caught up in my sleepin' bag. Sommink fell on me. John?"

Jeff smiled and moved his head over Alan's, pushing up his visor so he could see his face properly. "John's fine. He got stuck in his bedroom when the door sealed. Not so much as a scratch."

"Wha hit us? Missle?"

Jeff shook his head, taking Alan's hand in his. "No, son. Not the Hood this time. Good old-fashioned mother nature decided to pay us a visit. According to John and Commander Noyce, the station was battered by a meteorite strike."

Alan groaned at the mention of his Godfather's name, and Jeff leant closer. "Yeah, we got busted." He whispered, making sure no one else could hear him. "But it's ok. He'll keep his mouth shut if he knows whats good for him."

"You sure?" Alan mumbled, feeling sleep pulling him back into the darkness.

"I promise."

XXXxxxXXX

The next time he woke up, someone was shining a light into his eyes again. This time it didn't hurt as much, and the voice accompanying it sounded much happier and more familiar. "Welcome back, Sprout."

"Go 'way, Virgie…light hurts…head hurts…go 'way…." Alan screwed up his face and moved his head away from the offending light. "'less you got p'nkillers."

"Head hurts?" Virgil was suddenly all business again, but Alan was just glad that the strong light went away.

"Scott's playin' drums inside. And he's got no rhythm."

That was an understatement, and Virgil produced a syringe. "Ok, Alan, I'll give you something for the pain. Does it hurt anywhere else other than your head?"

"Scott's playin' drums _everywhere_. Make it stop…please…"

After a minute he felt Virgil's hand caress his forehead, and the pain that permeated his muscles began to fade into the background. "Better?"

"Much." Alan murmured quietly, risking opening his eyes again. "Home?"

"Yeah, kiddo, we're home. You've mostly been asleep for about 38 hours. You woke up a few times, but you weren't exactly with it. I think you're back this time though. Do you remember what happened?"

Alan grunted, shifting to try to alleviate the ache that remained in his shoulders despite the heavy painkillers he'd just received via the IV drip. "Yeah. And I remember dad asking the same thing someplace white. Meteor strike on the station…something fell on me."

Virgil nodded, relieved to see for himself that there was no memory loss. "Yeah. The white place was a mobile hospital truck at the WASA shuttle control in Florida. The doctor there took care of you and made sure everything was ok."

"Noyce?" Alan felt sleep pull at him again, but fought against it, wanting to straighten out what was real and what belonged only in his dreams.

"Yeah, he was there too. He's the Commander of the shuttle that went to get you. And he'll be arriving tomorrow evening, along with Jethro Murphy. He was John's mentor when he was in the WASA. They were both on the shuttle. They're pretty cool about it too. They won't say a word."

"Good." Alan whispered, and let his eyes close again, drifting back to sleep. In the corner of the room, Brains looked up from the scan he was examining, and smiled at Virgil.

"He'll be f-f-f-great. Don't worry…and go g-get something to eat."

Virgil disposed of the syringe and nodded, doing a final check of the IV and monitors before ambling out of the room, confident that Alan was on the mend and in good hands under Brains's watchful eye. Going upstairs, he found his father and brothers gathered around the dining table on the Lanai. "He woke up again, but this time he was able to string more than three words together. Remembers everything. Should wake up tomorrow morning with a whopper of a headache, sore as hell, irritable as anything but the worst of the confusion should be gone. He'll probably be able to go back to his room by then." He announced, sitting in front of an empty plate by his fathers elbow.

"I still can't believe he wasn't badly hurt." John murmured, stirring his pasta around his plate. "I mean, it was the full unit that fell on him, not just a panel. It shouldn't have come loose like that, dad."

Jeff nodded solemnly. "Brains has an idea about that." He put down his fork and looked at each of his sons carefully. "We'll have to investigate it further, but the bolts we used to fix the units to the walls were from Stera-Corp."

Scott froze, swivelling his head to stare at his father. "What?"

Jeff nodded, understanding the sharpness behind the words – it wasn't directed at him but was solely directed at the company that was already being hounded by both the media and the courts for sub-standard parts that had caused a number of accidents. "I know, Scott. We tested the sample bolts they sent us and they were fine. Gordon and I just tested the left-over parts we got in the bulk-order and they definitely weren't. We should have tested them too, but we didn't. And next time, we will."

"Dad, they were used throughout the station…" John paled even more, setting his dinner aside. He'd just completely lost his appetite.

"I know, John. Brains thinks that's why you lost the power too. We won't know until we get up there and have a good look. I've already sent out the signal that we are out of operation until further notice. And this time, we won't be going back into operation until we are 100 percent ready. And that includes Thunderbird 5. I wasn't sure that we should go back online so quick…I wish I'd listened to my gut, but I will listen to it from now on."

Around the table, they all fell silent, listening to their own thoughts. Yet again, they'd dodged a major disaster by the skin of their teeth, and yet again, the youngest, most vulnerable member of their family had borne the brunt of the consequences. Absently, John wondered just how many lives Alan had, and how many he'd lost.

"Three." Gordon muttered beside him, and when John looked at him curiously, the red-head shrugged.

"You said 'how many lives does Alan have and how many has he lost?'. It's three. When mom died, when the Hood tried to kill him, and just now on the station."

Scott shook his head, picking up his fork again. "You got it wrong, Gordon. It's more than that. When he was shot at by the Hood's men, sliding down 1's flame tunnel…it's gotta be more than that."

Jeff sighed, listening to the quiet bickering that started up around the table and quietly slipped away, leaving them count up how many times his youngest had nearly died. His path brought him straight to the Med-Lab, and he nodded to Brains, who set aside his data-pad and left the father and son alone. Settling onto the stool beside the bed, he listened to the comforting beeps coming from the machines and brushed Alan's fringe away from his face. "You're not a cat, Alan; you don't have nine lives. You just have one." He murmured softly, his fingers continuing to stroke the soft skin. "And an Angel is watching over you making sure you live it long and well." He closed his eyes and bowed his head, relishing the warmth of life beneath the fair skin.

"Keep watching over him, Luce…he needs you."


	7. Chapter 7

Jeff and John stood at the edge of the runway, watching the small, high-powered jet come in to land. Both men were nervous; both for the same reason.

Alan Noyce brought the jet in smoothly, flicking off each switch to shut it down with a tight grimace on his face. Every mile they travelled that brought them closer to the island made him madder and madder, and beside him, Jethro Murphy was finding it hard to keep him calm. Before they opened the hatch, he grabbed his arm tightly, stopping him in his tracks. "Alan, you're officially retired now, so I can say this with no repercussions. You take it easy out there, you got me? He isn't some hick newbie that needs to be shouted down. He's your wing-man. He's the father of your godson and he has a good head on his shoulders. He wouldn't be doing what they're doing if he didn't know what he was doing…got it?"

Alan glared at him angrily, shaking off the hand on his arm. "I don't care what he's doing, Murph; I care that he's dragged a fourteen year old kid into it. He could have been killed. And I'll damn well let him know how damned mad I am right now."

Back on the tarmac, Jeff steeled himself as the two men strode towards them, Murph having to trot to keep up with the taller man. "Hey Johnnie." He piped up, trying to get his oar in first before Noyce could start shouting. Noyce quickly overtook him and before Jeff knew it, he was being held against the nearest palm tree by his shoulders as Noyce berated him incoherently.

"Easy, Noyce." Murphy and John pulled him off Jeff and retreated a few steps, giving Jeff room to regain his balance.

"If you're going to act like that, you can leave. Now." Jeff muttered, pulling his shirt back into place.

"He's Fourteen Years Old!" Noyce yelled angrily, and Jeff sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"I know how old he is, Al. He's _my_ son!"

"He could have been killed!"

"And he wasn't." John murmured quietly, not relinquishing his grip on Noyce. "He'll be fine. And eager to get back to it before he's ready."

"He's just a kid." Noyce grated out through gritted teeth.

"I know. Which is why he isn't going on live missions yet. He was up there training, Al. So that he's ready for when he is old enough to go on live missions. If you promise not to hit me, you can come inside. Kyrano has coffee on."

Murphy brightened up at this tit-bit and let go of Noyce's shirt. "Coffee? As in the same stuff he'd send you, John? Well, I'm in."

Noyce pulled his shirt back into place, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "I want to see Alan first."

Jeff nodded. "That's no problem. Virgil and Brains are settling him into his own room. He's still a little groggy, but he's much better than he was when you last saw him."

This nearly set Noyce off again, but he managed to keep his words to himself as he followed the three men up the steps into the villa. Keeping his jaw clenched, he ignored their surroundings, focusing only on getting to his godson; a kid he hadn't seen in nearly three years.

Inside Alan's room, the teenager in question was yawning widely as Virgil carried over another pillow to set behind his back. "Dad's on his way up with Noyce and John's friend Murphy." He murmured, helping Alan to sit back onto the pillows. "I'm pretty sure Uncle Alan will want to come straight here, so I'll hold off giving you your painkillers until they leave…or if you really need it, I can give you some now?"

Alan shook his head minutely. "I'm ok, Virg. Hurts, but I can manage it. You don't look so good, though. You need to get some sleep." He yawned immediately after saying it, and Virg laughed, covering his own yawn.

"Yeah, kid, I know. I'm tired, but I'll get a good night's sleep tomorrow when I don't have to do a Neuro Check on you every hour on the hour."

Alan blushed slightly, staring down at the covers as he plucked at them with two fingers. "I'm sorry, Virgil…"

"For nothing. You didn't do anything wrong, Alan. It's not like you're a meteor magnet. Trouble magnet, yeah, but no meteor magnet."

Alan's blush intensified, and Virgil shook his head, gripping his chin gently to direct his brother's gaze to his face. "Hey, listen to me; you did ok, do you hear me? You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens."

Alan smiled softly in thanks, and they both looked to the door when someone knocked. The door swung open, and Alan's smile brightened when he saw a stranger enter at John's side.

"Hey, Alan. I doubt you remember me; the name's Murph, we met up on the Station but you weren't exactly in the position to say Hi." Murphy advanced on him with his hand outstretched, and Alan shook it carefully, wincing as the movement aggravated his shoulders.

"Easy, Al." Virgil warned, reaching for the tray holding the syringe.

"No, no, I'm ok…honest, just don't stick me!" Alan protested, making Murphy laugh. "Hey, where's Uncle Alan?"

Murphy cleared his throat awkwardly, sharing a glance with John. "Uh, he and your father are just having a quick word outside."

"A quick word?" Virgil asked darkly, setting down the tray. "I'll, uh…I'll just go see what's keeping them." He saw the look John sent him and half-trotted out of the room.

Alan, though groggy, was not stupid. "Ok, what's going on?" He demanded, glaring at John.

"I don't think Uncle Alan isn't too happy that we are letting you join IR so young." John sighed, perching on the side of the bed so that Murphy could take the seat beside him. "It's ok, they'll work their way through it."

"Why? I mean, Thunderbird 5 is probably the safest place to be…normally. Not counting what happened the last time…and anyhow, the last time being here was just as bad as being up there. I mean…you know what I mean…freezers and machine guns and everything."

Murphy frowned, wondering what Alan meant, but John shook his head and smiled at Alan. "How are you feeling, Sprout?"

Alan resisted shrugging; he'd already learned that lesson, and let his smile return. "I'll be fine, John. You can stop worrying now."

John snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'll stop worrying when you can move without wincing. Anyhow, Murphy's the one who gave me my training in the WASA."

Alan nodded, his eyes drifting back to the door as his father and Uncle appeared. "Hi Uncle Al." Noyce lifted his hand in greeting, his eyes travelling up and down Alan's face as if making sure he was really there. "And before you say anything, I'm guessing you have a problem with me being up in Five. Well tough. I fought long and hard to get them to allow me to start training, and even though I've had a little bit of a set-back, this is my life and I'll do what I damn well please with it; which, by the way, in case you haven't realised, is helping my family save people. I helped save over 900 people a few days ago, Uncle Al. Do you know how cool that is?"

John found himself smiling despite the frosty atmosphere that had entered the room with the arrival of Noyce. "Yeah, Allie, that's pretty cool, isn't it." They both started to chuckle and Noyce drew in a long, strained breath.

"How are you feeling, Sport?" He asked after getting a hold on his temper again.

"I feel like I've been trampled by a horse." Alan grimaced. "But, I'll be fine. There's nothing to stop me getting back in the saddle, right?" He looked to his father for confirmation, and Jeff nodded.

"By the time you are ready to get back in the saddle, Alan, you'll be fifteen." Jeff pointed out, frowning as Alan yawned. "Ok, I think it's time for you to get some more sleep." Virgil eased around them and headed for the bedside locker holding the tray of pills, ointments and the dreaded syringe. Noyce waited until Virgil had given Alan the painkillers, and then allowed Jeff to draw him away from the room.

Leaving John to entertain his friend, he brought Noyce to his study, closing the door firmly behind them. Kyrano had already set out a tray of coffee and snacks, and Jeff poured them both a drink in silence. "I know what I am doing."

"He's not safe running around like that-" Noyce began to protest, but Jeff shook his head, handing over the coffee.

"He's not safe here, either, old friend. Two months ago our home was invaded by men with guns. The boys and I had been lured onto Thunderbird 5 after a missile struck it, but Alan was here. I nearly lost everything that day, Al. Alan proved he was ready to start training. For all that he's only fourteen, he managed to defeat a crazed genius that had defeated us every step of the way. Ok, he did have help, but his help was from a thirteen year old and a twelve year old. His grades are up, and so are his spirits. I've never seen him so happy, or fulfilled. And I'm not going to take that away from him or him away from our family just because you have a problem with his age. He will _not_ be going on live missions until he is sixteen years old at a minimum. But he is training, and he is training so he won't do anything stupid or hurt himself or others. And he did help save the lives of over 900 people. He'd been on the Station less than a day."

"I have no choice?"

"None. Now drink your coffee like a good Fly-boy and if you are really good, I'll let you have some of Kyrano's special Chocolate Cream Cake."

Noyce raised an eyebrow but took the slice of cake he was handed and nibbled at it cautiously. "How'd you find such a genius in the kitchen?" He asked, the coffee and cake helping him to slowly begin to relax.

"Our first rescue; his brother had imprisoned him in an illegal mine that was collapsing. We saved him, but thought his brother had perished. Unfortunately, he had not; he was the man that launched the attack on our home two months ago. I offered Kyrano a position here; he and his wife and daughter agreed. We'd be lost without them."

Noyce nodded slowly, Jeff's unsaid words hitting home. His next words, though, made him perk up.

"Do you want to see my command centre?"

XXXxxxXXX

"Where's dad?" Scott asked as Gordon wandered into the kitchen, wiping off the last of the grease from his hands.

"Showing off to Uncle Alan; they're in Thunderbird 1 now. Don't worry, it's in good hands." The red-head started laughing as Scott got up from the table, a look of worry on his face. "Dad won't appreciate you showing up either. This is his time to show off to his friends."

Scott growled, but sat back down moodily and flicked back through the plans for Thunderbird 3. "We just have to finish replacing the Gimbals on Engine 1 and it should be ready for take-off." He murmured as Gordon moved to look over his shoulder.

"Where's Brains?"

Scott smirked and moved the paper closer to Gordon so he could see the extra modifications being made. "Giving Stera-Corp hell. Do you know, when he gets really, _really_ mad his stutter disappears completely? Tin Tin is sitting staring at him in awe."

"What's Fermat doing?"

"Taking notes." Kyrano set a plate of cookies in front of them and tried hard not to smile. "I believe he has never heard such language from his father before. Nor have I, for that matter, and I could hear him all the way out in the corridor. Now eat; dinner will be ready in two hours."

Gordon snagged two cookies and stuffed one in his mouth as he wandered out of the kitchen towards his room. Passing Alan's, he peeked through the half-open door to see Virgil carefully massaging Alan's back, a look of concentration on his face. Alan seemed to be sleeping, and realising he was being watched, Virgil looked up and smiled apologetically. "I thought it might help him sleep a little better." He whispered. "Though he's pretty much knocked out by the meds."

"I know that feeling." Gordon grimaced, moving his shoulder slightly to make sure that the muscles in his shoulder had loosened up. "He's really going to be ok?"

Virgil wiped the last of the ointment from his hands and drew the covers up over Alan's bare back, making sure he was well tucked in. "He'll be fine by the time he goes back to school; more's the pity. He spent Spring Break with a bruised back, and now he's spending his Summer Holidays with double the bruising, double the pain and bruised ribs."

"At least he'll get to have a proper holiday, near enough. No haring around the world on rescues…or being stuck up on Five." Gordon griped as Virgil firmly shut the door behind them.

"Hey, it might take more than two months to get Five back in action. We don't know what the damage is until we get back up there…" Virgil trailed off, an idea coming to him. "I wonder if Uncle Alan would give us a hand?"

"I would if I didn't have to go back tomorrow." Murphy announced from the door to John's suite, a model of Saturn in his hands. "It's a pity you can't drag more people in on this. I know a bunch that would love to have a piece of this action."

Gordon nodded as Virgil shook his head. "Yeah, it'd be nice, but too many people…You only know about this because you were involved pretty spectacularly in your own rescue of us and you recognised John. If he'd had his helmet on, you wouldn't even be here."

Murphy smiled, showing he understood. "I know. John just filled me in on what happened the last time someone found out where you were; you were lucky. And I know how lucky I am. Still, if you ever need an extra pair of hands full time, just let me know; I'll be happy to jack in the WASA if this was what I was coming to." His smile turned to a grin, and he let John pull him back into his suite, chuckling as the astronomer began to babble about a new star he'd spotted.

**Ok guys, sorry about this but I'm finishing it a lot sooner than I thought. I might update with new chapters from time to time but I've lost a bit of steam and I'm finding it hard to continue. There is more to come in my head, but I'm marking it as complete for now.**

**I just want to thank everybody for their kind reviews; they really do help a girl keep going, especially when her Muse has gone AWOL. Best of Luck, Usher.**


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